STRUCK BY A POET
by Siren Will
Summary: Every night, in the same spot, a mysterious voice would recite a poem closely related to Tom Riddle and every night, he would be there to hear it but will he ever find out who she is? Was he a fool to think it was one of the students? Tom/OC


**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **First of all, the poem in this story is not mine, it is rightfully owned by Sheri Lennox and it is called MIRROR OF PAIN. This is my second fanfic and I'm kinda hoping its different from all the other fanfic of Tom Riddle and OC ships out there. This chapter is a little short because i only came up with the idea today and wrote it in a little less than three hours because I might get lazy later on if push it aside.

Well I do hope you guys enjoy and if ever you have anytime, please review!

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**STRUCK BY A POET**

**I**

_I never found myself completely dumbfounded, heedful and understood__… till one night in the place of my comfort, a voice that I did not recognize drew my ears and whole attention to a poem. To me, it was the most eloquent verse I have yet to hear and the voice that spoke it so divinely made me desire more. That night, I admit that, I have been struck by a poet. _

The smell of roasted beef and warm mushroom soup still teased Tom's empty stomach. The Great Hall and the Hogwarts kitchen have been open all day for hungry students since that Saturday morning yet Tom Riddle found no time to fill his appetite. Ever since the beginning of the year, he's been trying to make sense of Horcruxes but whenever one of his questions are answered, twice more would rise. His steps quickened trying to scatter away from all the delicious food offered in the Great Hall, he feared that his temptation of food will brush away his thoughts of the horcruxes.

Tom Riddle almost jogged when he saw the soaring, Birnam oak doors; he was planning to sneak into the Library's Restricted Section hoping to find something helpful. Knowing that the Library would be empty with all the students eating dinner along with their forgetful librarian, he creaked open the door and slowly stepped in. A deep sigh escaped him when he smelled the warm food no longer but the aging pages of ancient books. He manoeuvred himself quickly hoping to be out of the labyrinth after a short moment.

"Restricted section…" he read the sign posted just above a small gate.

Finally he was there. With haste Tom Riddle unlocked the gate and wander inside, searching for the right book in the right section. The room was covered in shadows and thick layers of dust, making sure that there were no watchful pair of eyes, Tom seized his wand from his deep pockets, chanted the magical words, "Lumos." and the tip of his wand served light. Once the dark place was introduced to light, it became a pleasing sight, he never realized how big it was in the restricted section of the Library, the books seemed to be much older and thicker than the once displayed in public.

Tom eyed every book he passed like an owl searching for a prey in the dark. He has not yet found anything that sounded helpful, till a book in the last section intrigued him, 'Immortality and How to Achieve Them', with haste, he seized it.

Time was running and the library would soon be filled with buzzing students so Tom immediately left the Restricted section and headed for the exit of the library but as he was about to pass the third isle closest to where he just came from, a burning flame on a melting candle stood on a small table just right beside rows of books. His sounding steps came to a halt and covered himself in the shadows behind the shelves of books. There was somebody on the other side of the isle, the flipping of pages and the tapping of finger on the wooden base was unmistakable.

The only thing he could do was wait, he'd rather lie to the librarian and say that he was there with a permission from one of the Professors rather than get caught by one of the students-or worse, Dumbledore or the Headmaster, but waiting for another five minutes would make him restless. He can't even start reading the book that he 'borrowed' from the restricted section because firstly, it was too dark and secondly, the crispy pages would make louder noise than his footsteps. Softly he cursed himself. Tom thought he's been heard when the person on the other side of the isle spoke.

"Your hate is boiling up inside…"

Wide eyed, Tom turned around but was caught in stupidity when who he expected was not who he saw but the ancient books that were rowed neatly on a shelf. The voice began again but only till the end of her second sentence that Tom realized this voice was reciting a poem.

"It has no place to run and hide.

Your heart is breaking clean in two,

There's nothing anyone can do.

Your soul becomes a lake of fire,

To hurt someone is your desire.

You want someone to feel the pain,

That's almost driving you insane.

You then look up so silently

Into the eyes of your enemy

And instead of seeing ugly, misting glares,

You see your pain... reflecting theirs."

She stopped but he wished she didn't. His tall figure was motionless, ears against the books, trying to hear if there was anymore to this moving verse, but none came. Not even another sound from her lips. Tom felt as though he's just been recited a poem that completely related to him, the feeling of being found and understood came rushing to him, it was an awkward and foreign feeling yet it was relieving, something he never felt before. Caring not about getting caught, he paced himself to where he knew the stranger would be but was surprise to see that the isle was empty.


End file.
